"Hello. May I help you?" she asks a woman at the door, a middle-aged, frizzy-haired woman trembling. Her clothes are old, but not ragged or dirty, one of the genteel poor, she assumes.
"I...I have it." She holds out a tiny heart-shaped box to her.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what..."
"Tell him I brought it!" the woman blurts, far harsher than she intended. Belle nods and decides she will look for him, but he is scampering down the stairs.
"Fetch that pot up there," he calls to her. Without questioning, she unlocks the cupboard and reaches up to the second shelf for a squat flower pot, plain and certainly not looking like it possesses any magical qualities. Handing it to him, he ushers the woman to come inside and holds his hand out, palm up, waiting for the box.
"Wasn't so hard was it?" he asks without looking at her. He fills the pot with a bag of dirt and makes a small hole for dropping in a seed.
"No, actually." She swallows. "Our bargain?"
"Patience, dearie," he says, pouring a cup of water over the pot. "Outside. Should be any minute now."
"What is that?" the woman asks. Belle hurries outside, too intrigued to speak.
"Your end of the bargain." He places the pot on the ground and sits cross-legged on the ledge framing the front step.
"What?"
"Your little sprout."
"You, you..." The woman still shakes, but with rage. "You promised me a child!"
"And I can't very well make one the old-fashioned way right now, so if you'll just wait a second more." He gestures at the pot. There is already a flimsy stem, twisting and thickening until buds form. The top bud, a bright red tulip, begins to open. "A walnut shell," he says, tossing the woman one. "May come in handy."
Belle keeps her eyes on the flower, the fastest-growing plant she's ever seen. The plump, moist petals begin to part and inside, there is a yawn. The woman kneels down to see a small girl with a long braid and dress, smiling at her.
"Are you my mother?" her tiny voice asks.
"Why, she's...she's no bigger than my thumb," the woman breathes, holding out her hand. The tiny girl steps out from the flower onto the woman's hand and waves to her.
"Hello."
"Thank you," she says to him, tears in her eyes. "Thank you so very, very much." As best she can, she cradles the girl and starts for the way down the mountain, their two voices murmuring to each other until the wind drowns them out.
With no flare or air of satisfaction, he leaps off the ledge, picks up the pot, and uproots the flower, flinging it into the field. She follows him inside.
"How did you do that?" she asks, her heart racing after what she had witnessed. "That was amazing!"
"Magic."
"She's so small. I can't imagine the trouble they'll have."
"All children bring a little bit of woe with them," he says with a flat tone she hasn't heard before. "Not all that amazing, really." He shakes the small box at her. "She performed a small task for me."
"Hence a small child?" Belle tries.
He grins at her. "Now you're catching on."